


To This Ending We Created, We'll March Our Separate Ways

by kibasniper



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Another Episode
Genre: Alternate Canon, Bad Ending, Despair, Emotional Manipulation, Emotionally Repressed, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Lost Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other, Post-Canon, Regret, Shock & Awe, Worry, Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 15:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibasniper/pseuds/kibasniper
Summary: On opposite sides of Towa City, Fukawa and Komaru reflect on sins which have led them to travel down different paths. As one is consoled for her part in the chaos, the other is dragged deeper into the fiery pit of despair.





	1. To Reach The Ending We Deserve, I’ll Pull You By Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the unfortunately cancelled My Inspiration: A Toukomaru and Syomaru zine! Although cancelled, everyone's art and fics were wonderful! This story was finished back in March, so I hope you enjoy this fic and the other works by the extremely talented group of artists and writers!

When Fukawa closes her eyes, she can still see the fireworks. Explosive bursts of orange and red had detonated throughout Towa City and dominated the skyline. As far as she could see from Monaka’s zeppelin, her world was engulfed with helmets bursting, splattering the children’s bloody, charred heads on the concrete. Adults roared for their victory with shrill pandemonium and worshipped their mortified savior while she shook, chilled to the very bone.

She remembers urging Komaru to break the controller. Komaru had hesitated, unsure of her decisions until the very end. She turned to Fukawa, asking if she was making the right choice. Fukawa insisted she destroy it, claiming that the war would be over, and they would achieve their happy ending. She pushed Komaru down the path to their mutual demise as the city erupted in fanfare and blood the moment Komaru smashed the controller, which Fukawa later realized was all according to the will of the Mage.

Monaka’s bright, devilish eyes as she revealed her grand plan is imprinted on the back of her eyelids. When Fukawa had realized her error, she could hardly speak. The harsh truths spitting from Monaka’s mouth like a hissing viper filled the silence as she jeered that the island would go to war against Future Foundation with Komaru as the spearhead of a new despairing era.

Fukawa shivers as Monaka’s laughter still titters in her ears, but Komaru’s howling splits her head wide open. How Komaru tossed her head back and screamed as the true horror of her crime weighed down on her back, breaking her spine and forcing her to collapse, it all plagues Fukawa with every breath she takes. Raking her fingers through her hair, tears streaming down her face, she appeared like the picturesque model of despair, a true successor to Enoshima Junko. No matter how hard Fukawa tried consoling and reassuring her, hopelessness wrapped around her heart like thorny, jagged vines constricting a rose and squeezed with all their might until she shattered like a fake diamond.

Komaru’s parents were tortured and killed. Togami was still captured. Future Foundation and the Remnants of Despair will wage a war in Towa City. The happy ending Fukawa knew Komaru so desperately deserved had been ripped from her fingers as Haiji arrived, sneering that Komaru was the savior of the adults. She had been played like a fiddle by so many people. From wide-eyed Monaka, to the devious Servant, and finishing with merciless Haiji, too many people manipulated such a pure-hearted girl and transformed her heavenly self into an unfeeling monster.

She still can’t believe how easily Komaru killed Haiji, strangling his pale gray throat as Monaka laughed and Kotoko screamed. All the world could do was gasp as she committed her first despairing crime as the Successor and cemented the influence of Enoshima in the hearts of mankind.

Fukawa digs her nail-bitten fingers into her palms and carves distorted crescent moons into her skin. She glares at wispy smoke emanating from too many sections of the city. Scarlet flares light the sky and make up for the lack of stars. Storm clouds roll in from the east and slowly cover the ever-present crimson sky, and for once, Fukawa almost feels grateful for rain.

“Hey, Fukawa-chi.”

She tightens her jaw. She listens to Hiroko’s boots as they crunch against the hard gravel. Her cigarette smoke reaches her, and she wrinkles her nose, the scent far more unpleasant than any smog filtering throughout Towa City.

“Taking a break?” Hiroko asks, pinching her cigarette between her thumb and index finger and blowing out a gray smoke cloud.

She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Can’t a girl have some time to herself? Besides, shouldn’t you be babysitting those brats? I already told you that I’m not gonna do it.”

Hiroko follows her gaze back down the slope of the small hill. Taking refuge near a playground wasn’t ideal, but watching the Warriors of Hope run around makes Hiroko’s lips quirk into a grin. Their laughter rings out as they play their zombie game. Masaru chases an unwilling Nagisa, and Kotoko pushes Jataro in front of her, shouting for him to protect her. They truly look like innocent children, pure in a way that almost wipes them clean of their countless crimes..

Hiroko chuckles. “When they’re like this, they’re pretty cute.”

Fukawa rolls her eyes. “Because nothing’s cuter than tiny killers who worshipped Enoshima Junko.”

“I know-”

“They killed Asahina’s brother and Fujisaki’s dad and helped make Komaru the way she is.” She glares at each of them, their smiles too gentle for their transgressions. “I’m never forgiving them.”

She grimaces as Hiroko heaves out a smoke-laden sigh. Fukawa chews on the inside of her mouth. She can’t look at them without being reminded of their atrocities and utter disregard for innocent people, and Komaru’s stricken, teary-eyed reactions to the variety of corpses they presented to them makes bile rise up in her throat.

She doesn’t know what to say to Asahina if they ever meet again, and she tenses as the photograph of the Fujisakis scorns her thoughts. Innocent people were killed, and her beloved had been turned into a beast because of them.

Accepting Nagisa’s proposition to let Komaru escape would have been a better ending. She could have fought back against that cruel Servant when he sneered down at Komaru, but she didn’t. She had wanted to let Komaru escape the path she provided for her, but Komaru insisted to see their journey to the end looked so much like her shining brother. Hope burned in her eyes, and Fukawa melted, wanting that same glimmer to stay inside Komaru forever. If she was lucky, perhaps Komaru would have shared it with her by saying three simple words.

Saving the man who belittled her instead of helping the one who truly cared for her soiled Fukawa’s spirit. Her twisted love for him had guided her throughout their time together. Togami had always been on the forefront of her thoughts, and as she grew to cherish Komaru, now stained in black despair, she realized she only wanted her happiness. Komaru would have never had to face such despair if Fukawa understood that her true beloved had been thrown into a world of hopelessness all because she steered her down the wrong path.

Hiroko grips Fukawa’s shaking shoulder. Ignoring the curious glance from Kotoko, she swivels in front of Fukawa and tightens her grip. “Komaru-chi is a good girl. She’ll come around.”

“What are you, psychic? Can you read my thoughts now?” she snaps, the memory of the idol’s corpse in Naegi’s bathroom making her skin crawl.

“It’s written all over your face.” Hiroko smiles. “We can turn her around. Just like these kids have changed, we can help her come back.”

“H-heh heh! You’re an i-idiot just like-just like your son. Nothing’s that s-simple.” She spits out cruel words as her meager defense, and the pitying tilt of Hiroko’s head makes her breath hitch in her throat. Fukawa tucks her chin to her chest, her glasses reflecting the final sliver of sunlight in the deep crimson horizon. Tearing them off, she presses her palm over her eyes and sucks down a harsh breath, her budding sobs earning the attention of the Warriors of Hope.

Hiroko gently scoops Fukawa into her arms like she would for her son when he was a little boy. She smooths down Fukawa’s long, tangled locks and closes her eyes.

“You didn’t know any better. No one could’ve predicted this ending, okay?” She lowers her voice to a whisper as the kids shy away, their happiness forgotten as their sins crawl on their backs. “We’ll rescue Komaru-chi from whatever she’s become. It’s not over yet.”

“It’s not over,” she mumbles, hollow and disbelieving.

“That’s right.” Hiroko glances over to the children who avert her gaze. “This will pass, okay? It’s gonna pass, and things are gonna turn out fine in the end.”

Fukawa grits down so hard on her molars that she’s almost afraid they’ll crack. She doesn’t want to return Hiroko’s embrace or comfort, but her arms refuse to listen to her mind. Clinging to Hiroko, she buries her face in the crook of her neck and utters an ugly, wretched sob that echoes throughout Towa City.

She wants to save Komaru no matter what. Even as she sheds her regretful tears, Fukawa vows to take any risk to save the young woman she had grown to love and guide her back onto a normal path, staying by her side through the many shades of hope and despair.


	2. To Cement The Ending We Created, I’ll Drag You By Your Wrist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: depictions of violent imagery and thoughts.

“Kyaaah! Komaru-onee-chan, look, look! There are so many pretty fireworks!”

The blank expression of the Successor doesn’t change. Komaru is numb to the brilliant flashes of smoke and light that never seem to end in Towa City. A distant explosion echoes like rumbling thunder, setting off a chain reaction of sound and fury. Faint screams reach up to the decrypt castle Monaka has built for them. Komaru watches Monokumas chase down weaponless adults who meet their end by stainless steel claws now slick with blood.

Monaka rocks from side to side in her wheelchair. “The adults are really getting pushed back today. Without any access to their precious supply warehouse, Monaka knows they’ll be totally helpless.” She giggles and claps her hands. “All because of onee-chan’s brilliant idea to send Monokumas right into their totally not-secret base! Surprise attack! Hiyah!”

She punches the air, her pose reminiscent of the former Fighter. She waits for a response and would have settled for subdued chuckling, but only awkward silence permeates between them. Monaka furrows her brow and huffily crosses her arms. She glances up to Komaru, puffing her cheeks full of air only to gasp, stricken with a realization.

“Oh! Servant-san said the Remnants of Despair will be here before Future Foundation. Can you believe it? Junko-onee-chan’s devoted followers will be your underlings! Monaka can’t wait to see what horrible things you’ll make them do!” She hums and taps her chin, her eyes sparkling. “You can use Tsumiki-onee-chan to spread rare viruses or make Souda-onii-chan mass produce even deadlier Monokumas or have Tanaka-onii-chan summon super scary devil dogs and have them rampage on the adults!” She catches her breath and clutches the hem of Komaru’s skirt. “Won’t that be super despairing?”

As expected, Komaru doesn’t reply. Despite being dressed in Enoshima’s outfit and heralded by despair’s followers as the Successor, she certainly doesn’t act the part. She isn’t constantly analyzing and foaming at the mouth with despair branded in her brain. She’s not the malicious, intelligent vixen who destroyed the world with careful crafting and devious disasters all for the sake of decimating hope.

Komaru is a girl who faced despair after despair and broke after being urged to commit an atrocity. All of the innocent children, brainwashed to commit countless sins under Monaka’s command, died by her hand. Their blood marred her as the despairing martyr and deemed her the Successor just as Monaka wanted in the narrowed eyes of the world beyond Towa City.

She’s numb to it all. Her heart has shattered, twisted by thorny, jagged vines. Her brother must hate her, and her parents died under the cruelest thumb. A war will brew in Towa City and take the apocalyptic world by storm. A sliver of her heart wishes to snatch Monaka’s throat and strangle the life out of her just like she did to Haiji, but she can’t bring herself to do anything.

Her beloved is gone, too. The young woman she fell in love with is no longer by her side. She’s alone, trapped in spiraling despair with the remains of her heart lodged between the spaces of her ribs. She’s certain that her beloved won’t storm inside Monaka’s domain and put her back together again.

She had already let Fukawa down more times than she would like to admit. Her cowardice tasted bitter on her tongue as she thinks back to the very beginning. Fukawa carried and encouraged her. With Fukawa’s earnest honesty and consideration for her well-being after so many despairing encounters, Komaru fell for her, a woman who would eventually suffer because of her one mistake.

No one would pardon her crime. Not a single person in the world would give her an inkling of mercy even if they sympathized with her pain. Her sinister, serpentine thoughts, each word caressed in Enoshima’s whisper, remind her of the devastation she caused. She recalls the shock dripping from Fukawa’s mouth, but her own screaming silenced whatever it was she was saying. All she had left was desensitizing despair to soothe her broken, shambled heart as Monaka christened her as the Successor.

She knows Fukawa would never forgive her. Just like how she destroyed the controller, she demolished their relationship. She believed the despair she created was too great for Fukawa to ever excuse, and Komaru tells herself that she has every right to despise her.

She misses what she had, but that only fuels her desolation. She longs for the hand that had once reassured her to caress her cheek. Each time she tries to remember what she shared with Fukawa, tormented memories make her wail. Tears would dribble out until she has nothing left to shed except the blood that runs cold in her veins, and even then, the despair sweltering in the hole left in her chest tells her that her beloved will not come for her.

All she can do is monotonously lead Monaka’s forces and the despairing fleets that flock to her. She’s dragged along like a puppet even when Monaka tries masquerading her as the true puppeteer. Even now, she can only act as the expressionless leader watching the chaos down below as she rubs her cheek, longing for the cool hand of her beloved.

Groaning, Monaka drums her fingers on her armrest. Komaru is more robotic than any Monokuma she could mass produce. She laments her boredom as the mastermind behind the scenes with her figurehead acting like a cracked porcelain doll. The little sister of Super High School Level Hope becoming the next Super High School Level Despair would have been truly incredible if Komaru would actually do something without Monaka nudging her. 

The screaming, sobbing Komaru she had seen after she broke the controller is the one she had hoped to cement within her. Anguish, heartbreak, and despair, it all swelled within her so beautifully that Monaka could have cried. She was so wonderful when she killed Haiji and betrayed Fukawa, but all that is left is a shell of a half-hearted human.

She tries to follow Komaru’s half-lidded gaze. It’s the same expression she’s seen too many times, and she rolls her eyes. The vacant grief puddling Komaru’s vision is nothing like Enoshima’s vibrant gaze that could see far out into the distance.

Her goddess had told her many despairing stories. From how she manipulated Mitarai into creating a brainwashing video to her plethora of attempts on her sister’s life, it was that passion that led Monaka to adore despair. Wild fervor and the thrill of the unknown, those were the notions Enoshima instilled within her, and as Monaka thinks back to Enoshima, she remembers one particular tale that makes her lips curl into her cheeks.

“Love can be the best source of despair,” she whispers, gazing far beyond the scarlet skyline.

Komaru flinches, her mouth drawing into a tight, straight line. Swallowing, she jerks her head down to glare at a Ball Monokuma mowing down two adults and leaving behind bloody skid marks.

“Komaru-onee-chan was certainly in love with Fukawa-san, wasn’t she? She loved, loved, loooved her with all her heart only to let her down when she was truly needed.” With an exaggerated roll of her wrist, Monaka digs her finger into her chest and presses hard against her beating heart and fixes her wide-eyed stare on her prized Successor. “Monaka wonders how you would bring an even deeper despair to your beloved. If it’s someone like you, so twisted and broken, then I’m sure you can really make her embrace despair just like you have.”

Komaru gasps, all color draining from her face. She snaps her attention to Monaka, her expression stretching in aghast horror. Her lips part, but unlike her brother, she cannot come up with a refutation.

Monaka chuckles. “Junko-onee-chan killed her beloved, the man whom she had loved since she was a little girl. She told Monaka all about how she stabbed and stomped him to itty bitty pieces, but part of that wonderful despair came from when she told him that she was the one who killed his dear mother. It was that beautiful betrayal, meow!” She snatches Komaru’s hand and yanks her forward, forcing her to her knees. Grabbing her shoulder, she lowers her voice and feels Enoshima’s presence surrounding them. “Doesn’t that sound really fun, onee-chan? Monaka’s so curious to know how you would bring your beloved to despair just like she did so long ago.”

Komaru had thought her joke of a life was finished with unexpected twists as something pierces what remains of her heart. Her breathing turns to sharp pants as she falls deeper, sinking into Monaka’s twisted imagery. Her thoughts churn as Monaka paints the picture of Enoshima killing her beloved, laughing, crying, and smiling all the way through. Disgust wraps around her neck and chokes her, refusing to let her sputter out any feeble rebuttal.

She imagines grabbing her beloved’s hand and shoving her down the same path she had been forced to walk. Immersing her beloved in thick, malicious agony makes her convulse as she drags herself back to her feet. Her heart beats louder and faster, and the castle walls spin around her, her eyes wide to new possibilities.

“Wouldn’t that be incredible? You could trap her in despair,” Monaka hisses, clutching her hands together and squeezing so tightly that her fingers burn a brilliant red, “and she’ll be all yours just like he was to Junko-onee-chan. Hopeless, miserable, and so full of agony to have loved the awful you.” She giggles and throws her hands into the air. “It’d be super duper despairing, nya!”

She sees Fukawa’s tear-streaked face, her glasses smashed and lips bloodied. Fukawa coughs out regrets and spills her sorrowful apologizes. She’s clutching a gaping wound in her torso, and Komaru realizes she’s holding a knife coated in her rich ichor as the world splits in two serrated halves.

Her heart pounds so forcefully that she thinks she’s trapped in an earthquake. She flushes, her body and mind warped with despair as Monaka’s poison seeps into her veins. A horrific, passionate flare scorches her as her heart knits back together, the will of the former mastermind beseeching her with a smirk above Monaka’s head.

Komaru wants more. She needs more of Fukawa’s beautiful expression writhing in despair until she breaks and joins her on the path leading straight into hellfire.

The smile of the mastermind rips across Komaru’s face. She hugs herself, her knees buckling. As she brings her gaze back to the rotting polluted city, Komaru can hardly contain herself and thrusts herself into the starring role.

“Upupupu! I want to see Fukawa-san shine in despair. We’ll be together, and then...then I’ll...just like with Haiji-san, I’ll-!” Her shoulders rock, and the bubbling laughter welling up in her throat erupts with a volcano’s fury.

Komaru howls, fully engulfed by Enoshima’s will as tears roll down her cheeks. By her side, Monaka smirks, knowing that despair will reign for as long as they live.


End file.
